Underdog
by StuckHereWithNoTV
Summary: Going home isn't always easy.
1. Default Chapter

**Title:** Underdog - Chapter 1

**Author:** StuckHereWithNoTV

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Going home isn't always easy.

**Disclaimer:** _Jake 2.0 and all related elements, characters and indicia copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc., 2003. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations-save those created by the authors for use solely on this website-are copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc._

**Author's Note:** I know this has kind of a silly premise, but it looked like so much fun to play with that I just couldn't help myself. Thanks to J Solt for helping me out in the past and, as always, a big thank you to all those who've read and reviewed my previous stories.

* * *

**Underdog**

by StuckHereWithNoTV

Jake burst through the lab doors, his hands flailing in the air. "My car. I _hate_ my car." He threw his coat next to the laptop that Diane was focusing on. "And look--" Jake insisted, pointing at his shirt and pants that now both sported a brown coffee stain down the front, "the purpose of cup holders is to _hold cups_. Now can somebody please tell me why out of all the cup holders in the world, _mine_ had to be the one slacking off on the job?! I mean why on the day when I'm stuck in bumper to bumper traffic and thirty minutes late for a meeting with Lou, does my cup of Maxwell House Crap Coffee -- which, by the way, wasn't 'good to the last drop' -- decide to come flying at me with scalding liquid that could _not only_ burn the hairs off my chest if I had any, but _also _possibly prevent me from having kids in the future?!"

Jake painfully glanced down at the second location of the coffee stain while walking over to hang up his shirt on the coat rack. "Oh, and that meeting with Lou? Turned out to be a general meeting with everyone in Sat Ops. Yeah, pretty hard to act like a super spy when both female _and_ male agents are checking out your unintentional fashion statement." He raised his head thoughtfully. "Maybe that's why Kyle always wears brown suits. You know, just in case the coffee thing ever happens. I dunno, what do you--" Jake stopped when he realized Diane hadn't said a word since he came in. Turning around, he saw she had her back to him and was still staring at the computer screen. "Diane?"

She visibly jumped and looked over her shoulder at him. "Huh?"

"Did you hear a word I just said?"

Diane blinked and then frowned quizzically looking below his torso. "What happened to your pants?"

Jake folded his arms. "What are you reading?" he asked, squinting his eyes.

She snapped the laptop shut before he could use his enhanced vision. "Nothing. Just an email."

"_Diane..._"

She swiveled around to fully face him. "I have to go home soon."

Jake took a seat on the examination table. "Well, yeah, we all do. It's almost 6:30."

"No," Diane sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I don't mean home. I mean _home_. As in Bar Harbor."

He looked at her concerned, his brow furrowing when she refused to make eye contact. "Is... Is everything okay?" Jake asked. He felt he should give her a hug or some sign of comfort, but he guessed with the presence of several lab assistants in the other room, it would've only make her feel more uneasy.

"Yeah..." she replied, dipping her head. "No."

"Who was the email from?"

Diane stood and moved toward him. "My mom," she said monotone. Taking the stethoscope out of her lab coat pocket, Diane stared at it. "I-I just never really thought about how..."

Jake swallowed, berating himself for whining about his bad day when obviously someone in Diane's family was ill or worse. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know it's not easy."

"Yeah, really," she nodded gravely. "I mean, they draw it out for ten years--"

"Ten years?" Jake repeated, wondering if by ten years she meant something like life support or the illness itself, whatever it may be. Dozens of questions tumbled to the edge of his tongue, but Jake bit them back. All that mattered to him was supporting Diane through whatever was distressing her.

"And it's not like you can avoid it. Well, you can, but once they get a hold of you..." She pushed herself onto the table so she could sit next to him. "It'll be nice to go home, but I'm... I'm just going to miss my dad. It'll be so hard with him not being around."

"You're dad," he said, now understanding. Although, his mind was still trying to piece together what kind of disease or illness that killed her dad. Jake pulled Diane closer to give her a one-armed hug, not being able to hold back anymore. He was surprised at how relatively calm she was being about the whole situation, but Jake guessed she was still in shock or denial. "Were you close to your dad?"

Diane looked at him and then at the lack of space between them, clearly startled. "Uh yeah. Yeah, he always tried to make me laugh when I was going through something stressful. That's why I'll miss him since he's gone. I'll miss my mom, too, since she also went with him."

Jake's jaw dropped slightly. "But-but didn't you say you just got an email from your mom?"

"Yeah. She sent it to me before she and dad went away."

"Both your dad _and_ mom are gone?" he questioned incredulously. Jake started to wonder why the death of her parents seemed to be affecting him more than her. She should have been a complete wreck. Hell, a few days ago he watched her almost fall apart when one of her mice died of old age. "Diane, it's okay. There's no reason for you to have to act strong. Don't worry, I'm... I'm here for you. If you ever need anything..."

"I'll be fine," she insisted, her eyes devoid of any tears which scared Jake more than anything. "Well, relatively fine. It'll be hard facing all those people alone, but I've decided I have to go. It's my duty."

"Of course." Jake nodded slowly. "If you need me to go with you, that'll be no problem. I'm sure I can get Lou to give me a few days off."

Diane shook her head. "You don't have to do that, Jake. Besides, I'll only be gone next weekend. I'm just going to be glad when this whole thing is over. I hate these kinds of things; they always make me nervous and then my feet hurt afterwards."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Jake pulled back, almost getting disgusted with her uncharacteristic lack of sensitivity. "Don't you think you should take more than just a couple of days off for the funeral? I mean, the death of your folks isn't something you should take lightly. How can you--"

"Funeral?!" Diane choked.

His face froze. "Yeah, isn't... isn't that what you're talking about?"

"No!" she informed bewildered. "No, no. I-I'm talking about my high school reunion."

There was a long pause as the two of them replayed the conversation in their heads.

"'Draw it out for ten years'...?" Jake quoted.

"Yeah, it's the ten year reunion."

"And so your dad didn't die of a disease that could have been avoided?"

"What?!" Diane's face scrunched up, thinking. "I meant when the reunion committee gets a hold of you, it's like something you can't avoid. Where-- How did my dad come into this?"

Jake covered his eyes. "You said you miss him since he's gone."

"Yeah, him and mom are flying to South America on a business trip. She forwarded me the reunion invitation before they left." A small smile crept onto her face. "You mean, you thought my parents were--"

He held up a hand, embarrassed. "I don't know what I was thinking. Just forget it." Jake let out an exasperated breath. "Reunion. Okay. Gotcha. So what's so bad about a high school reunion?"

"Everything," Diane scoffed. "They say the point of it is to get in touch with old friends, but really it's to show off the loads of cash and unbelievably gorgeous spouse you've been able to accumulate since your teenage years. Both of which I have neither to flaunt."

"Oh c'mon, Diane," Jake chuckled. "Don't you think you're exaggerating just a bit?"

"No, I'm serious. You still have two years before your reunion comes up, and when it does, you'll know exactly what I'm freaking out about." She slid off the table and started gesturing with her hands. "It starts out with the tacky banners and early 90s music, and then it all goes downhill. Right from trying to make your way through the crowd dancing to 'I Like Big Butts' just so you can get a glass of spiked punch, to moping at an empty table alone while the DJ plays bad Bryan Adams songs for the couples." Diane sighed in despair. "I guess, in a way, it could almost be distressing as a funeral."

"Why are you going then?"

She shrugged. "I was valedictorian. Apparently, I'm supposed to give some short little speech during the party. And since I went to a small high school... If I don't show up, people are going to notice."

Jake grinned, noticing her strangle the stethoscope worriedly. He had never given much thought about high school reunions but with Diane's dire prediction of her destiny, it wouldn't be right for him to stand around and let her go through that agony alone. "Maybe I should go with you?" he suggested. Diane opened her mouth about to object, but Jake cut her off. "Really, it'd be no trouble. I mean you went all the way to Seattle for me, the very least I could do is mope along with you while drinking spiked punch and listening to Bryan Adams. It'll be fun... sorta."

She pursed her lips and shook her head, amused. "You sure?"

"Absolutely," Jake affirmed. "I love getting jiggy to 'Big Butts.' Wouldn't miss that for the world."

Diane laughed, her glum mood fading away. "Thanks, Jake," she said whole-heartedly, her eyes meeting his. Putting on her stethoscope, she was about to place the diaphragm up to his heart when the sight of a pink blotch on his skin made her stop for a moment. "It kinda looks like a giraffe," she commented tilting her head to the side.

Jake scowled down at the souvenir his morning coffee left on his chest. After a second, he reluctantly nodded in agreement.

* * *

"Would you like another drink, sir?"

Jake looked up at the flight attendant who had stopped the refreshment cart beside him. "Uh, orange juice would be fine, thanks." Taking the clear plastic cup she handed him, Jake gulped the liquid down and glanced at Diane next to him. Wads of crumpled airline napkins littered the fold-down tray in front of her as she wrote vigorously on a clean one. Jake started chewing on the ice cubes, continuing to watch her, until Diane abruptly scribbled out all she had written and made the Mountain of Rejected Speeches one crumpled ball taller. Emptying his cup, Jake handed her his cocktail napkin. "Here," he mumbled through a mouth of ice cubes.

She pushed up the corner of her glasses and took the small white square. "Thanks," Diane murmured as she started to write again.

"Diane?" he asked, shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "Do you think maybe you could start using both sides or slow down on the whole crumpling business in general?"

"What's wrong?"

Jake looked forward a few rows and caught the flight attendant pausing to smirk at him. "It's just--" He leaned closer to Diane, lowering his voice, "It's just that we've been doing this for an hour now and I've been having to _go_ so much, that I think the flight attendant is convinced that I have some kind of... control problem, if you know what I mean."

"_Oh_," Diane said, setting her pen down while biting back a smile. "Yeah, of course."

He sighed in relief. "You sure you don't have anything good in there?" he inquired, pointing at the napkin pile.

She shook her head. "It's silly. I'm only going to be up there for a minute and I can't even think of one word to say other than 'Hi, everybody.' I mean, geez what kind of sad, pathetic loser obsessively stresses out about something as simple as that?"

Jake's expression fell. "I'll try to take that as a compliment," he said dryly.

"Aw, Jake," Diane laughed, nudging his shoulder with hers, "I-I didn't mean you. I liked your best man speech; it was really good."

"Really?"

"Yeah," she assured. "Me, on the other hand... not so good."

"Mmm, yeah, I see what you mean. I only had to give my speech in front of people who were already aware of my oratory skill, while you... I suppose you have to live up to your valedictorian status, huh?"

"Yup," she agreed, grimly. "Although, it's not like people are really going to pay attention to me anyways."

"Why not?"

"Well, first of all, everybody will probably be too drunk to even listen. But more importantly, I wasn't exactly part of the really rich, popular group when I was younger."

Jake dismissed the notion with a snort. He couldn't believe she was worrying about something as trivial and juvenile as cliques. "But that was like years ago; nobody cares about that stuff after high school. And besides, people change right?"

Diane raised an eyebrow. "In Bar Harbor, unless you're talking about tourists, the tides, or housing developments... nothing changes."

Her slightly cryptic comment perked Jake's curiosity. "What were you like in high school?"

"Me?" Diane squeaked, picking up her pen. "Well, I dunno. Kinda nerdy, I guess; I mean, I was the only person who _actually_ volunteered to join the Math Team. Timid. Study-aholic. Um, I was just..." she shrugged, "ordinary. How about you? What were you like?"

Jake noticed her fidgeting with the pen and realized to his dismay that she was about to start writing again. Waving over to the still smirking flight attendant, he turned back to Diane with a weary smile. "Shorter."

* * *

It was after nine o'clock at night before their plane reached Bangor, Maine. Picking up a rent-a-car at the airport, the two started the fifty-mile drive down to Bar Harbor. Jake, inhaling the polishing wax and car freshener scent of the vehicle, stretched out in the passenger seat and watched the dark outlines of endless trees along with the occasional house zoom by. He found it kind of relaxing not seeing the blocks of street lamps and gray cement he was used to in D.C.

They continued driving on Route 3 through the touristy districts of Salisbury Cove and Hulls Cove which, to Jake, seemed like nothing more than a big group of buildings and hotels clustered along a single main road. As the car made it's way south, he leaned forward to look past Diane who informed him that the mass of black that seemed to be moving was Frenchman Bay. Jake stared at the sheer drop from the road down to the water, silently thanking his lucky stars that Diane was at the wheel and not him.

Winding past the mountain cliff faces and the direct sight of the water, the scenery shifted to lighted store windows and B&Bs as they entered downtown Bar Harbor.

"Is this our stop?" Jake questioned, sighting a few residential-looking houses.

Diane kept her eyes on the road. "Heh, not unless your bank account is somewhere close to the size of Bill Gate's," she joked.

Carrying on with their journey, the main road that cut through downtown changed back to Route 3, while forests once again replaced shop fronts. They had traveled a few minutes south of downtown when Diane suddenly turned left onto one of the residential dirt roads that branched off the highway. Engulfed in the shade of dense pines with only the car headlights preventing them from running off the path, they emerged into a large clearing where a small, two-storied house and its bright porch light greeted them.

Diane pulled up to the driveway and cut off the engine. "Here we are," she announced, unbuckling her seat belt.

"Nice," Jake commented, peering out the window. He got out of the car and looked up at the house with its wrap around porch and large, neatly kept garden. Picking up the amplified sound of crashing waves, he estimated that they were only a few yards from the sea. Jake gazed up at the sky, amazed at the number of stars that one would only see far this from the bustle of the city. "I feel like I'm in the middle of nowhere," he grinned, turning towards Diane.

She opened the trunk and pulled out a suitcase. "My parents' house _is_ the middle of nowhere," Diane said, grinning back at him. She started pointing at different directions. "Downtown. The bay. Jackson Laboratory--" She paused to pick up the luggage and gestured to the ground with a sideways nod of her head. "Middle of Nowhere."

Jake chuckled and followed Diane with the rest of the bags up the front steps. He waited as she unlocked the front door and flipped on the light switch. Seeing Diane motion for him to come in, he hauled the luggage inside and set it on the hardwood floor. "Wow," he instinctively muttered, scanning the entryway and living room. The first, immediate thing he noticed about the Hughes household were the plants. Although the whole interior was tidy, every single spare corner and table surface was occupied by a living and well-cared for plant. Vines, flowering broadleaves, exotic species... almost any kind of plant Jake had ever seen -- or had not seen, for that matter -- was most likely displayed in these two rooms alone. It kind of reminded him of his grandma's house... except for the fact that most of the plants in her house were either dying or made of plastic.

Diane shut the door and glanced around her. "Yeah, they're basically my siblings." Jake gave her a strange look. "I mean-- My dad is a botanist," she explained, sheepishly.

"Ah," Jake nodded, following her down the hall into the kitchen. Large panoramic windows covered the eastern wall and led Jake's eye towards a dining room and a pair of french doors leading back to the living room. He whistled, noticing the greenhouse attached to the other end of the kitchen and the patio beyond it. "You've got to be kidding... And you're telling me that you weren't part of the rich group?"

She walked over to the fridge and removed a list-sized piece of paper held up by a magnet. "We had money, but with both my parents' jobs requiring them to go on business trips, usually for very little pay... There were a few times when we hardly got by."

He moved up behind her, looking over her shoulder at the absurdly long paper. "What's that? A shopping list?"

"Feeding list," Diane corrected, looking up at him. "Precise measurements on what time of the day the plants need to be watered, pruned--"

"Taken out to play, naptime, read their bedtime story..." Jake teased.

"Yeah, pretty much." She put the list back on the fridge and leaned against the counter. "So, uh, I guess we should get some sleep. Big day tomorrow and all..."

"Yup," he agreed, leading them back out to the entryway. "So, um..." They stood facing each other awkwardly, both glancing up the stairs at the second floor. "You have a spare room up there or something?"

Diane scratched the back of her head, nervously. "Well, we did until my mom turned it into her office. And then my parents' room is in the middle of getting remodeled, so really the only room up there is my old bedroom-- Uh," she blushed, gesturing idly at him, "so, if... if you don't mind... I mean, I-I can..."

Jake swallowed, surprised at feeling his mouth go dry. Nonchalantly shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants, he smiled shyly. "Yeah?"

She looked from him to the living room. "Couch?"

His smile slipped a fraction as he turned his head to the long, overstuffed sofa. "Oh."

"I mean, I can get some pillows upstairs," she pointed upward, guiltily. "I'm sorry--"

"No, no. It's fine," Jake interrupted cheerfully, but inwardly beating himself up for being an idiot. "Couch. Couch is good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he stated crisply.

Diane drooped her head. "Jake, you didn't have to drag yourself over here with me--"

"Hey." He brushed her shoulder briefly. "I... I wanted to," Jake said with a shrug.

She nodded, visibly uncomfortable with the silence that had settled. Stooping to pick up her bags, Diane turned and started climbing the staircase. She stopped just outside of her bedroom door and smiled back down at him. "G'night, Jake."

"G'night," he echoed. Turning off the light switch, Jake stumbled over to the sofa which, he had to admit, was pretty comfortable. He stared up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh. "Yeah. Love the couch."


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** Underdog - Chapter 2

**Author:** StuckHereWithNoTV

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Going home isn't always easy.

**Disclaimer:** _Jake 2.0 and all related elements, characters and indicia copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc., 2003. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations-save those created by the authors for use solely on this website-are copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc._

* * *

Jake groaned, feeling his mind swim to consciousness. The absence of "Luigi's Deli Sausage Smell of the Morning" that he usually used as an alarm clock back in his apartment was completely disorienting. Jake sat up, stretched, and took stock of his surroundings. Among the cozy furnishings of the room, he spied several picture frames on the tablestand beside him. Many of them were of younger versions of Diane -- her at the beach, on a bike with training wheels, blowing out candles on a birthday cake -- but it was an image of her around eight years old that caught Jake's eye. He grinned at the sight of a short, curly haired girl standing on a chair in what appeared to be the greenhouse. Wearing much too large of a lab coat, Little Diane had her tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth and was intensely examining the amount of green liquid in a beaker.

Jake continued to hold the picture for a few seconds before placing it back in its place and starting his search for the first floor bathroom. Discovering what he was looking for, Jake took a shower after which he found the framed marine wildlife photographs that covered the room slightly on the odd side. He emerged back into the entryway about to retrieve some clothes from his bag, when the smell and sound of rich, full-bodied coffee beans being ground assailed his nanite-enhanced senses.

He peered down the hallway and spotted Diane standing in front of the coffee machine, stifling a yawn. Jake's eyes unwittingly wandered from her sleepy expression that held a similar endearing factor the girl in the picture possessed, down to the oversized cotton shirt that scarcely reached mid-thigh. His dilated pupils locked on the bare expanse of her legs before Jake shook his head, bewildered.

"Jet lag," he stated. "It's just jet lag." Jake rubbed his eyes, trying his best to ignore the fact that they were still in the same time zone and that jet lag didn't usually cause a sudden rush of blood to certain areas. Convinced that some coffee would cure his "jet lag" and prove that what he was experiencing wasn't a big deal, he padded barefoot over to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway.

Jake cleared his throat as the ear-piercing buzz from the coffee grinder came to a halt. "Mornin'," he croaked, forcing his attention above Diane's neck and not on the partially buttoned-up white shirt that had suddenly become semi-translucent in the sunlight.

Diane yelped, almost spilling the grounds she had been spooning into a filter. "Geez, Jake, you scared the hell out of me," she gasped while switching the coffee machine on. "I didn't know you had woke--" Diane spun around, her line of sight darting downwards and then quickly gluing itself back up to his face, "got out of the shower."

Jake's eyes widened, suddenly remembering the lone bath towel he wore. "Yeah... kinda didn't know that myself," he stiffly smiled, clasping his hands in front of him strategically.

"Mmm, well, uh," Diane jerked her thumb pointing to the counter and folded her arms. "I was just making some coffee. Do you want any or are you still mentally scarred from your last experience?" she inquired with a nervous laugh.

"No, no," Jake gulped, fighting to keep from noticing the swell of her chest as she crossed her arms. "It was pretty traumatic, I'll admit, but I think I can handle a cup."

"Okay." She lowered her head, a blush tinting her cheeks at the sudden realization of her own lack of attire. "Well, I'm going to go upstairs and, um... get dressed."

"All right." He felt his pulse start to beat erratically as Diane moved forward and stopped just in front of him. With her face only a few inches from his own, Jake absorbed every detail and movement -- the sunlight playing on her tousled hair as she brushed away a stray curl, her sleepy and half-closed eyelids behind a somewhat askew pair of glasses, the way her lips slightly parted when she tipped her head up to look at him -- all of which seemed to resonate so clearly, refusing to surrender possession over him. Jake swore he could feel the nanites course savagely through his veins as his lungs devoured the scent of her shampoo and his after-shave intermingling on top of the earthy aroma of coffee that surrounded them.

"Jake..." Diane murmured breathlessly.

Intoxicated by the timbre of her voice penetrating into his mind, Jake's own lips parted, desperately seeking oxygen to keep his tortured senses from drowning. "What is it, Diane?" he managed to breathe out.

Her gaze slowly shifted from his face to just above his shoulder. "Could you move over a bit?"

"Hmm...?" Jake was brutally snapped out of his trance as he became aware that he was blocking the entire doorway. "Oh! God, yeah. Sorry, uh--" he stammered, pushing his back against the door frame.

Diane smiled feebly and squeezed her way through, inadvertently brushing against him. "I'll be back down in a few minutes," she said, not hearing Jake's sharp intake of breath.

"Okay," he replied, his voice wavering. Jake watched her disappearance up the stairs before resting his hands on his hips and letting his head bang against the door frame. Licking his parched lips, he hoped with all his might that the nanites quickly restored his vitals to normal before Diane reached her bedroom; the last thing he wanted was her rushing back down, JMD in hand, insisting on touching him to make sure he was okay... well, pretty sure that was the last thing he wanted. "Gotta be the jet lag," Jake muttered, unconvincingly.

* * *

After haphazardly throwing on a clean set of clothes and almost causing a domino affect of plants crashing to the ground, Jake went outside onto the covered porch convinced that some fresh air would do him some good. He zipped up his jacket while walking over to the eastern side of the house and leaned against the rustic wood railing. Jake scanned the area, lazily observing the ballet of fickle shadows the rising sun cast upon the grass and large floral garden. The crisp, salty air that swirled through the vast region of pine trees slipped through the barrier of his jacket and soothed his skin that had been overheated only a few minutes ago. Shutting his eyes, Jake trailed his fingertips against the rough grain of the wood, enthralled with the relaxing effect the whole place had. It stunned him to the core at how much he really liked it here...

"Hey," Diane greeted, coming up beside him.

Jake blinked, switching his attention to her. She had changed into one of her usual Diane-ish outfits and was carrying two steaming mugs, one of which was held out to him. Giving a small smile of thanks, he took the cup and sipped the robust liquid. "This place... I don't really know how to describe it..." he said, secretly pleased that his bout of out-of-nowhere libido had subsided. Although, he still found the flighty and pleasant feeling reappearing in the bottom of his stomach more than a little disconcerting.

She nodded, perusing the flowerbeds. "You know, I noticed it was only seven o'clock... Do you want to, maybe, see this one place I think you might like?"

Jake straightened from his slouching position. "Sure."

* * *

The normally blackish-blue depths of Frenchman Bay had turned a shimmering light golden umber in the wake of the morning sun. Strolling along the far south end of the gravel paved Shore Path, Jake and Diane paused to soak in downtown Bar Harbor's coastal environment.

Foam-capped waves lapped against the rocky beach, blanketing the shore greedily before retreating under the current's stern command. To their right, the creaking of the decades old dock that sat near the foot of Bar Harbor Inn produced a back beat to the main melody of screeching seagulls circling in the rose tinted sky.

"What's that over there?" Jake pointed at a large island the wispy clouds almost seemed to form a halo above.

"Bald Porcupine Island," Diane answered. "Don't ask," she added with a smirk, not even having to see his puzzlement over the name.

They trekked a few feet northward, admiring the mansion-like cottages that lined the entire trail. Occasional bushes and low hanging tree branches that crept from the private property backyards onto the path created small, inviting coves of shade. Strong breakfast fragrances wafting from the restaurants on Main Street a few blocks down hinted at the location of the weekend tourists who would have normally congested the trail.

Diane directed Jake's attention to the cottage they were currently passing. "I remember that's where I crashed my bike when I was ten," she informed ruefully.

He winced looking at the solid, whitewashed privacy fence she gestured at. "Ouch. How'd that happen?"

She buried her hands in the pockets of her red jacket. "_Back to the Future_ re-enactment," she muttered.

"Wha--" He froze in his tracks and pulled on her sleeve so she would stop as well. "Excuse me, _what?_"

Embarrassed, Diane's eyes darted around at anywhere but him. "The movie came out that year and I really liked it. And it looked so easy to just pretend I was in the Delorean about to go back in time. You know, just get a long stretch of road and drive really fast-- or pedal really fast, in my case..." She shrugged defensively at Jake's raised eyebrow. "I was ten! Overactive imagination. I didn't know how fast eighty-eight miles per hour was... And I _really_ wanted to meet Doc and his dog, Einstein."

He chuckled, the laugh lines on his face deepening. "So, hey," he motioned his hands excitedly, "did you build your own--"

"Flux Capacitor?" Diane said, finishing the sentence for him. "_Oh_ yeah. I think I used a shoe box, straws, and some plastic wrap. Yeah, just stuck that baby between the handle bars and let it ride... right into the fence."

He cracked up, laughing much to Diane's chagrin. "Sorry. I'm sorry." he apologized. "I'm not laughing at you. It's just... that's adorable."

"It was stupid," she snorted, turning to face the water. "I shouldn't have even been riding a bike on the trail."

"Yeah..." He pivoted to face the bay, following suit. "And, besides, _everyone_ knows you need plutonium to make it work in the first place." Diane elbowed Jake's stomach causing him to groan in mock pain. "Hey, watch it," he warned with a smile. "You know, speaking of adorable, I saw the pictures in your parents' living room."

"Oh, God. Ugh." Diane rolled her eyes. "I forgot all about those photos."

"And the sea life photos in the bathroom...?"

She giggled. "Oh, you saw those, huh?"

"Yeah. Kinda hard to miss."

"My mom took those." Diane pushed back her hair the sea breeze blew in her face. "Marine biologist."

"Wow." Jake said, impressed. "A botanist and a marine biologist. Very... sciencey."

She smiled at his verbal eloquence. "Yeah, I guess it's genetic."

The conversation faded away for a few moments and was substituted with observing the naval activity on the waterfront. In the distance, the short blast of a ferry's horn sliced through the soft, rhythmic crashing of the surf.

"So, how'd your folks meet?" Jake asked, watching the trail of sea foam left by a passing sailboat.

"Over an aquarium of eels and red kelp," Diane said, fondly.

"Hmm. Well, that's something you don't hear everyday."

"It was some oceanic ecology convention at the Biological Lab up in Salisbury Cove," she explained. "My mom works there and was giving a lecture that my dad happened to attend, and so I guess they just hit it off." Her eyes wondered over to the docks where the local fishermen were unloading their first, before-dawn catch of lobsters. "My mom always likes to joke about how they first met and so my dad made it a habit of getting a fishbowl whenever their anniversary rolls around."

"A fishbowl?"

"Yeah, my dad always puts a fishbowl filled with red kelp and water by my mom's bedside the morning of their anniversary. And since you can't really get eels, he'd put those little Goldfish crackers in there as a substitute."

Jake smiled. "Sounds like they really love each other."

"Yeah. They really do."

The hint of wistfulness Jake heard in Diane's voice caused him to glance over at her. "What's wrong?" he asked, seeing her stare at the horizon with a far away look on her face.

She shook her head, self-conscious. "Nothing," she murmured. "It's nothing. I was just thinking."

He frowned, knowing she was lying but decided it was wiser not to push the issue. "You were right; I do like this spot," Jake commented.

"I used to walk down here a lot when I was a teenager," Diane said, going along with the change of subject. "I didn't really realize how much I missed it until now."

Jake wet his lips, tasting the faint amount of salt the sea breeze left upon them. "I guess it's true that sometimes you have to almost lose something before you realize how much it really means to you..." A couple seconds went by before he turned to her, laughing, "Did that sound too much like it could've come from some bad Bryan Adams song?"

"Yeah, it kinda did," Diane cringed, grinning at him. "But I think -- all Bryan Adams stuff pushed aside -- what you said... I think it really is true."

Jake stared down at her, wondering what was running through Diane's head as she stood looking right back up at him. He noticed her shoulders slump slightly before she finally turned away from him to face the bay. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Jake followed her lead and watched the morning sun continue to burnish the sea and sky in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title:** Underdog - Chapter 3

**Author:** StuckHereWithNoTV

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Going home isn't always easy.

**Disclaimer:** _Jake 2.0 and all related elements, characters and indicia copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc., 2003. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations-save those created by the authors for use solely on this website-are copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc._

* * *

"Ugh, dammit," Jake muttered, stretching his chin upwards. He tried one more time to maneuver the long necktie in the right sequence to achieve the perfect knot, but ended up making the same sloppy tangle of red silk. Jake groaned, leaving the snarled disaster of a tie hanging around his neck and started to shrug on a dark blue jacket. He stood alone in the living room, attempting to brush off the fuzz that congregated on the eighty-five dollar fabric while allowing his mind to drift away.

Jake had to admit that he had quite a lot of fun hanging out with Diane the whole day. After their walk by the waterfront, she decided that with the several hours they had before the reunion, she ought to show him the rest of the nearby area and a little bit of the other places on the island. They roamed all of downtown; Diane regaling him with the interesting things to do in Bar Harbor -- or rather, lack thereof -- as they passed through the cheerful "ye ole" motif of Main Street complete with brightly painted shop signs hanging over the doors. Popping into one of the small, family-owned restaurants, she treated him to the tourist's obligatory whole Maine lobster for lunch. But after an almost freak accident involving Jake, the patron dining at the next table, and a lobster claw turned projectile, they both decided some hiking would be a more peaceful way of spending the whole afternoon.

Diane drove them back down past her parents' house and into Acadia National Park. Transferring onto the historic Park Loop Road, they continued further south until finally reaching Gorham Mountain which Diane claimed had the best view of the coast.

They ascended up the forest and granite lined trail, stopping at the False Summit of the rugged 525 foot peak. As Jake stood on the sheer precipice that jutted over an endless ocean of spruce treetops, he relished in the fantasy that he didn't have a care in the world; that no amount of threats to national security or mad hackers on the loose had the power to pull him away from just enjoying the vista of Otter Cliff and the bay. Breathing deeply from the thin atmosphere and the pure exhilaration of the view, Jake had looked over at Diane with a goofy smile to see if she was feeling the same sense of freedom.

However, despite the pleasant expression that plastered itself on Diane's face, he could tell that her mind was yet again concentrated on something other than the picturesque scenery around them. He had confronted her right then and there on what was bothering her, but all he received in return was the same non-committal assurance of "it's nothing" and an abrupt change of subject.

Jake sighed, pulling himself back to the present, his guess on what could really be going on as unclear as the mist that had settled around the mountain when they had begun their descent. He reached for the ends of his tie, attempting to undo the mess he had done, when he heard the click of high heels on wood echoing in his ears.

"Are you ready?"

Jake pivoted towards the sound of Diane's voice and found her waiting in the entryway. She was putting on earrings, unaware of how he was appreciatively observing her thin-strapped dress and the way her hair was pinned up, both exposing the graceful contour of her neck and bare shoulders. Jake chuckled inwardly at his meandering curiosity of how many little black dresses she owned... and then nearly choked when his curiosity started to straggle away from clothes and into less innocent territory. "Yeah," he answered, annoyed at his colorful imagination.

"So..." She jerkily splayed her arms out to the side and let them drop back down. "Do I look okay?"

Jake soaked in the sight of the black cloth subtly hugging each definitive curve. The gentle, refined lines of her arms contrasted with her hands that twisted the straps of her purse nervously. He circled from the similar smooth lines of her legs up to her delicate face, tinged a light red as she witnessed Jake finishing his perusal. "You look amazing," he said quietly, the unmistakable sincerity in his tone reverberating throughout the room.

Diane ducked her head, the muscles in her neck twitching as she swallowed, bashful. "You need any help with that?" She glanced up out of the corner of her eye pointedly.

Jake nodded, tugging at the knot in his tie. Craning his neck, he let Diane come up to him and take ownership of the red fabric. "I hate these things. It's like if I have to wear one for work, I would need to get up fifteen minutes earlier just to mentally prepare." Jake lowered his chin when Diane snickered. "I'm not kidding. I mean, I can tie it, but... not that well."

She turned up his shirt collar briefly and slid the necktie in place. "Yeah, I noticed."

"Thanks," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Well, it's not that big of a deal," Diane insisted. "My dad is the same way. I actually gave him a clip-on tie for his birthday last year. My mom was thrilled."

Jake scowled, following the deft movements of her hands. "I'm not _that_ inept, Diane."

"I know." She smiled, forming a neat, tight knot and wiggling it up to the nape of his neck. "Besides, I think it's your ID badge that needs the help."

"Huh?"

Diane made eye contact as she smoothed his necktie in place. "You sometimes get your ID caught on an object whenever you lean over to look at something," she said. Pressing the wrinkles in his tie with her thumbs, the back of her hands gently stroked against the thin fabric of his shirt. "And sometimes in the lab when you're putting on your shirt, you don't realize that you're getting the chain stuck between a button and then you end up going through the whole day like that. I mean, I thought you would've gotten a clue by now, but you still keep getting it tangled on stuff." Diane laughed, obviously replaying some memory in her head. "Like that one time when you got the tag clip caught on your sleeve and it took you five minutes to get it off..."

A brief silence settled before he tipped his head to the side, surprised. "You notice all of that?"

"Yeah... Why?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she continued to absently slide her fingertips against the silky material.

Jake wasn't sure what point he was trying to make, but he had the feeling that it was something worth remembering. "Uh, n-nothing," he stuttered.

Diane's fingers stilled, her gaze dropping away. "We should probably get going," she stated, releasing his tie.

* * *

The night breeze whipped through the passenger window disheveling the strands of hair hanging over Jake's forehead. Once again, thick pine tree woods were all that could be seen as they coasted east towards the only high school on the island.

However, unlike most of the weekend, his foreign surroundings didn't capture his attention. Jake gazed at the winding stretch of road ahead of them, realizing that with each mile they gained, the closer they were to having to go back to D.C... Back to the NSA where every action and word was watched, recorded, and documented... Back to pretending that what he felt for his doctor was the same professional friendship he had convinced himself of having for the past several months.

Jake squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that it wasn't worth dwelling on what ifs and if onlys. It was one thing to say that they could find a way of fighting the unassailable system, that the chemistry between them -- Jake swallowed hard at what that chemistry could also be called -- could conquer as many rules, regulations, and Warners that could be thrown at it; that a typical, storybook happy ending could still happen if they could just work hard enough towards it. But that's all that line of thought really was. Fiction.

Real life just didn't work like that. The bad guys didn't always get what they deserve; the good guy didn't always get the girl. He wasn't naive anymore. He knew that some things, as much as you wished otherwise, just weren't meant to be; his years of worshiping Sarah only to find an illusion taught him that.

He looked over at Diane contemplatively. Despite all his knowledge of statistics that had been a part of his computer science schooling at Georgetown, he couldn't help but hold on to a small grain of hope. It was by pure chance that his arm happened to get nicked by flying pieces of nanite-infected glass. Pure chance that he happened to sneak into the lab to download files on the project just when Diane was on her way down. Pure chance that she happened to notice the quickly healed cut on his arm, causing her to reexamine the security tapes of the shooting incident. Pure chance that...

Jake flashed back to the night he stood in his apartment knowing that his dream of becoming an agent was practically going down the drain and that Diane had come over of her own accord even though they had only known each other for a few weeks. And despite her attempts to convince him not to give up, at the end of the day, he could tell that she shared the same thoughts on how, maybe, it just wasn't meant to be. But by pure chance, Tiranzi happened to target the NSA building that same week, allowing Jake to prove himself at the last possible minute.

So maybe, just maybe, pure chance would again find a way to do the improbable. But in the meantime...

Jake set his "real life" musings aside and contentedly slipped back into the no-worries, almost domestic fantasy this whole trip seemed to easily provide. "Are you cold?" he asked, catching sight of Diane's arm shaking. "I can roll up the window if you want."

"No, that's okay."

He frowned. "Are you sure, because I can see you shivering."

"No, no, it's not that. It's--" Diane took a hand off the wheel and waved it around a bit. "I'm nervous, is all."

"You mean about your speech?"

"About my speech, about the people, about other things... Basically about _every_thing."

"Is that why you've been--"

"Out if it?" she supplied, going up a pitch. "Yup, pretty much."

"Oh." Jake drummed his fingers on the armrest, not knowing how to make the situation better. "Well, there's really nothing to worry about, right? And actually, _I_ should be the one freaking out. You know, all those football players you probably went out with... or baseball players, or marching band players, or-- you know, I think even the chess players were able to kick my ass back then," he joked, pretending to reminisce.

"Yeah, those chess players are pretty buff," Diane said, playing along.

"So, is there...?"

"Is there what?"

"Is there some six foot five, angry, old boyfriend who's going to tell me to go out in the parking lot because I'm 'messing with his girl'?" Jake teased.

The sheepish laugh that came from Diane's mouth seemed to turn brittle in the frigid Maine air. "Heh, yeah right." She turned the car onto another road, passing a large, oval-shaped, granite slab that read Mount Desert Island High School.

* * *

Generic trophy cabinets and drab gray lockers flanked the hallway that led to the foyer of the gym. Walking down the freshly waxed floors that squeaked with each step, Jake observed the banners of school pride and "Go Trojans!" signs that were enough to bring anyone back to their days of youth.

Jake browsed the plaques and pictures that were hung with care behind glass cases as Diane went off to sign in at the alumni table.

He twisted around when someone tapped his shoulder. "Okay, let's go in," Diane said, preoccupied with trying to pin a name tag to one of the straps of her dress.

"Ha _whoa_!" he half choked, half laughed. Grabbing the tag out of her hands, he goggled at what he assumed was her senior year picture laminated next to her name. "Guess you were still reeling from the 80s, huh?" he said, guilelessly pointing out the ghastly large rimmed glasses and the larger-than-life, curly mass of hair.

Diane glared, ripping the tag from his hands. "I thought you were supposed to be here for _moral support?_" she reminded through clenched teeth.

"Right, right," he said, putting his hands up to call a truce. Letting her lead him towards the gym doors, Jake whispered in her ear, "Hey... do you think you have an extra print of that at your parents' house?"

She stopped abruptly, almost making him trip over his own feet. "Jake, I'm a _very_ resourceful and persistent doctor who actually enjoys doing long hours of research, so just remember..." Diane smiled pleasantly, patting his chest. "Payback can be a real bitch."

His grin faded as he solemnly lowered his head. The idea of having his yearbook picture fall into the wrong hands -- and in this case, Diane's -- was a serious threat indeed.

* * *

Jake stood beside the refreshment table, surveying the group of a couple hundred people that had graduated with Diane. Most seemed like they were pretty well off financially, or at least based on the few conversations Jake had randomly tuned in on. And although Diane appeared to be on good terms with everyone, he could see that these people weren't really the _Scientific American _fanatics that she would probably talk to.

With the large fluorescent lights dimmed down to create whatever mood the green and white "Welcome Back!" banners and balloons were trying to create, Jake blindly picked up a plastic cup of fruit punch. Bringing it to his lips, his face contorted as the beverage ran down his throat.

"I thought you said this punch would be spiked," Jake mumbled to Diane, disgusted at the bland liquid that tasted like anything but fruity. "I was kind of hoping that the alcohol would make the music seem less painful."

Diane winced in agreement as she looked over at the DJ who was blasting "I'm Too Sexy" through the speakers and intercom system. "Try this," she said, picking up a bottle and offering it to Jake.

He noted the Bar Harbor Brewing Company label with skepticism but took a small swig of the dark colored microbrew. Jake nodded, regarding the bottle of Cadillac Mountain Stout with approval. "Mmm, this is really good. Aren't you going to have some?"

She shook her head, miming a steering wheel. "It's all right, I'll just suffer through the music. Plus, I don't think it'd be a pretty sight if I went to the podium blitzed out of my mind," Diane confessed. Taking out a pen from her purse and a handful of napkins from the table, she gestured to the quieter side of the gym. "I think I'm just gonna, you know..."

Jake smirked at the fact that she still hadn't written her speech yet. "I'll meet you over there in a sec."

Diane suggestively glanced back and forth from the various locally made beers to Jake. "Don't knock yourself out _too _much," she cautioned, walking away.

He made a face and then proceeded to sample a little of another microbrew. Satisfied with its taste, Jake pivoted on his heel, immediately confronting the sight of Diane talking to someone in the far corner of the gym. He squinted, the nanites charging up and agitating the blood vessels in his optic nerves. Blinking the image into clarity, Jake spied a man about his own height with dark hair and an amused expression draped over a tan complexion.

Jake shifted his head, willing the nanites to surge into his eardrums. He sifted among the jumbled throng of blabber occurring throughout the room and zeroed in on the one conversation that interested him.

"...didn't think you'd fly all the way from Dallas just for this," Jake heard Diane say.

The man in front of her struck his chest, feigning to be wounded by her comment. "What? Miss a chance to see you again? Never."

"_Brad_..." she warned.

Jake's lip twitched as he watched this "Brad" guy put a hand on Diane's shoulder.

"I know things didn't end well--"

"Yeah, that's one way of putting it," she scoffed.

"But we were both young then. Things change. _I've_ changed," Brad reassured, starting to run his hand up and down her arm. "You look real good, by the way."

At this point, Jake was about to make his way over there to "politely interrupt," but froze when a small smile lit up Diane's face. _Oh please_, Jake sneered to himself.

After Diane and Brad went through a cute, awkward pause in their conversation -- which, to Jake, was as cute as getting a root canal -- Diane shook her head, clearing the past that had resurfaced in her mind. "That was a very long time ago," she pointed out.

"I know, I know, but... I've been thinking a lot about you lately."

The boyish grin that Brad flashed next was enough to make Jake queasy. Diane's reluctant sigh in response didn't seem to help his stomach either.

"So what do you say about us skipping this whole reunion thing and head over to the old Shore Path?" Brad continued to prod, sensing her loss of resolve. "Finally take you on that walk I never got around to doing? Catch up on what's been going on with the both of us?"

Diane glanced towards Jake's direction, causing him to spin around and pretend to be engaged with the assortment of refreshments. "No," Jake heard her answer automatically. "No, I'm here with someone."

"Really?" Brad blurted out, caught off guard. "Well, can't you tell him you met up with one of your old friends who already knows how to show you a good time?"

Jake's brows raised when Diane's voice suddenly grew deadly. "I can't believe you have the guts to bring that up."

"I-I didn't mean to," Brad pulled back, realizing his mistake. "Look, I know I messed things up back then, but that's one of the reasons I came here. You still mean a lot to me, and I just wanted to see if there was still... something there."

"There's nothing there," Diane gulped, her tone starting to waver, "and you haven't changed. So... so just leave me alone okay?"

"Diane, wait--"

Losing her patience, she stepped away from his grasp. "Brad, these heels are killing me. So unless you want both of them shoved somewhere that will cause you _much_ more pain than what my feet are going through right now, I suggest that you don't say another word to me."

Jake decided that this was probably a good time to step in, but by the time he fought his way through the crowd, Diane was standing alone and Brad was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey," he said, making Diane gasp in surprise. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," she answered tapping her pen against the stack of napkins she clutched. "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

Jake's mouth tightened into a thin line when he spotted the moisture that glistened in the corners of her eyes as she searched for anything to focus on other than him. "I have no idea," Jake muttered, taking a sip of the beer he was holding. "So, uh, who was that?"

Her head shot up. "Who was who?"

"That guy," he inquired.

"What guy?"

"That Brad guy."

"Oh. Well, he's just-- Brad? How did..." Diane's jaw dropped when it dawned on her. "You... you were _listening _weren't you! I can't believe you would-- _Jake!_"

"Hey, wha--" He was cut off as she made a hasty beeline to a nearby empty table. Baffled, Jake followed and collapsed in the chair next to her. "What did_ I_ do?! I didn't do anything!"

"Yes, you did!" Diane accused, jabbing the pen in the air at him for emphasis. "You listened to a _private_ conversation that you had absolutely _no _right to eavesdrop on whatsoever!"

Jake squirmed under the death glare she was shooting at him. "All right, maybe I did. But it's not like I could have _not_ eavesdropped." When her expression didn't change, he grudgingly admitted, "Okay, okay, I could have not eavesdropped, but the point is that when you're listening to someone threatening to shove stuff up into another person... it's kind of hard to ignore."

She leaned back in her chair, groaning, "You listened to the _whole_ thing?"

"No..." he said, trying to put it gently, "I'm pretty sure I missed the first few words that had been said, like, 'Hi' and 'How are you'..." He watched Diane dejectedly bury her head in her hands. "Well, so what if I heard the whole thing? And by the way, if you ask me, that guy sounds like he's a complete jerk."

"But that's just it, Jake. I didn't ask you." She rubbed her temples. "And Brad isn't always a jerk."

Jake had started off feeling guilty about the situation, but Diane's last comment sent his temper skyrocketing. "What, are you blind?! Of course he is! 'You look real good, by the way,'" he mimicked, complete with sarcastic bravado. "Oh yeah, really pulled out the big guns with that, buddy."

Her jaw muscles tightened, annoyance oozing out of her voice. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"No, Diane, _you_ don't know what you're talking about," he backlashed, pointing his index finger at her. "Is that what's really been going on in your mind these two days? This Brad guy? Is that why we did that whole Shore Path thing, because Buckaroo Brad there forgot to keep a promise to his ex-girlfriend? What, were you guys supposed to go do that mountain thing, too?"

She clenched her fists, almost snapping the pen in half. "No, we weren't, and for your information, the only thing that's been on my mind these two days is you," Diane spat vehemently. Taking a deep breath, she ducked her head, pain flashing across her face at the realization of what she had just said. "Let's forget this ever happened,"she whispered, preoccupying herself with scratching ink marks on a napkin.

Jake just sat there dumbfounded at the turn of events. Regretting his rash behavior, he leaned forward. "Listen, I--"

Diane held up a hand, stopping him. "Don't Jake, please," she said, surrendering. "I'm just going to concentrate on writing my speech so we can get out of this place and go back home to D.C., okay?"

He bowed his head, feeling the same defeat she did. With a ragged sigh, Jake reclined back in the cold, metal, fold-out chair. Despite the loud and cheerful party around him, he earnestly stared up at the exposed maze of ventilation pipes in the ceiling, oblivious to everything except Diane's faint scribbling.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title:** Underdog - Chapter 4

**Author:** StuckHereWithNoTV

**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** Going home isn't always easy.

**Disclaimer:** _Jake 2.0 and all related elements, characters and indicia copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc., 2003. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations-save those created by the authors for use solely on this website-are copyright Roundtable Entertainment and Viacom Productions, Inc._

* * *

An hour had passed with Diane still refusing to talk to Jake on the basis that she "wasn't good at multitasking." Although Jake knew that was a lame excuse, he decided it was best not to verbally point out that she had often conducted both his examinations and report write-ups at the same time, all the while still effortlessly conversing with Fran on the latest office gossip. To make matters worse, the DJ came on the loudspeaker at one point, announcing that the school's old water heater had burst and that it would take at least half an hour to get the gym's room temperature back to normal.

Jake loosened his tie and undid the top few buttons of his shirt, a thin film of sweat coating his brow. Unable to handle the heat and Diane ignoring him any longer, he curtly left the table and went outside into the foyer. He then slowly circled the empty hall while letting his head roll back, enjoying the ten degrees cooler atmosphere.

Taking in the long line of green and white sports pennants pinned high up on the walls, Jake once again perused the pictures and display cases that had been especially brought out for the reunion invitees. He chuckled as he passed frame after frame of students who dressed and had hair like they came straight out of some _Doogie Houser, MD_ rerun. Jake carried on with viewing the memorabilia, but came to a sudden halt when he reached the sports section.

Hung on the wall behind a few two feet high trophies was an old newspaper article regaling the events of a regional track meet. Jake skipped a few column inches down until he reached the results of one of the races and hit someone with the name of Brad Deveraux. Wondering if this was the same person in the gym, Jake searched through the other track pictures to match the name with a face and, sure enough, it was the same guy Diane had been talking to tonight. In fact, as Jake inspected the group photo more carefully, he noticed that the picture held one more detail that made his eyes grow wide.

At the far right behind a group of jeering teenagers was a tall and lanky fellow in a track uniform which the caption marked to be Brad. But beside him with his arm around her was a girl that, even without the presence of a caption, Jake recognized to be Diane. Her innocent and blissfully cheerful smile shined back at him, making Jake turn away.

Diane had looked really happy. They had _both_ looked really happy. Letting his thoughts roam, he wondered how deep their relationship once was-- or still is. In an instant, Jake felt like a third wheel; he knew he was probably overreacting about nothing -- it's not like they looked particularly cozy together a while ago and it's not like he even had the _right _to overreact -- but still... Jake shook his head, heading towards the men's restroom to see if he could wash away the emotional mess he was experiencing. With dried sweat sticking to his forehead and adding to his overall misery, he was relieved to find the tiled room empty.

Jake splashed cold water upon his face and was temporarily blinded by the beads of water as it dripped back down to the sink. Wiping the water away from his eyes, he heard the faucet beside him being turned on. Jake glanced up at the wall mirror and then snapped his head towards the person next to him. "Hi," he blurted out.

Startled, Brad looked at Jake and then around at the empty room. "Hi..." he echoed, his speech mildly slurred. "How're you doing?"

Jake grudgingly evaluated the man who had caused a damper on his evening. No longer the extremely lanky teen he used to be, Brad attractively filled out a dark suit with a flippant expression on his face, displaying small laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. "I'm fine. You?" Jake asked stiffly.

"Not bad. Had to get out of the gym, though. It's getting almost as hot as Texas in there." Brad lifted a bottle of beer beside him on the counter and took a short swig. "Have you tried these? They're made in Bar Harbor, you know."

"Yeah, I assumed so since it has 'Bar Harbor' printed on it."

Brad closely inspected the large print label with a grin. "So it does. I suppose I should've known that since my father used to be a main investor in the brewery. You like them?"

Jake observed with distaste the beverage that he had previously held in high esteem only an hour ago. "Yeah, they're very good," he lied.

Brad made a "cheers" motion with the bottle and took another drink. "You didn't go to school here, did you? I don't remember seeing you around..."

"No, I'm just here with someone that did."

"Ah," Brad uttered, shaking his head sympathetically. "Got dragged over here by the missus, hmm? If I were you guys, I would've just skipped this torture of a reunion altogether."

Jake folded his arms, quickly becoming interested. "You think this is a waste of time?"

"Yeah, basically."

"So why did you come?"

"Oh, the usual lines: remember the good old days, meet up with friends, excuse to come back home..." Brad's face twisted into a semi-sober look that defied his present physical condition. "But really, I'm here to see if I can patch up old mistakes."

"Old mistakes?"

"Old girlfriend," Brad clarified.

Jake drummed his fingers against his biceps. He knew he _really_ shouldn't be sticking his nose in Diane's personal business any more than he already had, but this opportunity was proving too hard to resist. "So did you? Meet up with your old girlfriend, I mean."

"Yup. She threatened to rip me a new one, can you believe that?"

"Unbelievable." Jake's lip curled up smugly until he realized that Diane would probably make the same threat to him if she ever became aware of what he was doing right now.

"_Yeah_." Brad snorted, not picking up the sarcasm in Jake's tone. "And get a load of this: she's 'here with someone.'"

"You're kidding."

Crossing his arms, Brad copied Jake's stance of leaning against the counter. "Uh-uh, some lucky bastard beat me to the punch. You'd think five years would mean something but--" he swallowed back a hiccup.

"Five years?"

"From junior year of high school to junior year of college; the longest relationship I've ever had in my life, now that I think about it." Clasping a hand on Jake's shoulder, Brad stared at the towel dispenser. "Man, those were the days. I mean, she was one of those shy, brainy girls, but once you got her out of her shell..." He laughed, causing Jake to scrunch his nose from the beer-infused fumes. "Like there was this one time in college... It was late at night and she was studying herself asleep as usual, but somehow I was able to talk her into coming with me to a tattoo and piercing parlor. I swear, I thought she was going to kill me the next day when she started freaking out about her new foot tattoo and nose piercing, but whadya know, for the next few months she had that stud in there and wore nothing but sandals."

"So what happened between you guys?"

"I... did a few things I probably shouldn't have."

When Brad didn't elaborate, Jake thought carefully about what had been said. "But you cared a lot about each other?"

"Yeah. Yeah, we really did. And I still do. She's pretty and smart and funny... We might be different in a lot of ways but--" Brad hoisted his bottle in another toast. "She's like the jelly to my peanut butter, the alcohol to my... alcohol."

Forcing a nod, Jake didn't know how much more he could stand of Brad's rambling trip down memory lane and decided it would be best for him to leave. "So that's why you came," he stated, breaking from Brad's vise-like grip and walking forward.

"Yup. That and my business venture failed."

"_What?_" Jake backtracked from the door to his original place.

"My tech company went under three months ago. Really bad. So, I figure I'm in need of some emotional and financial stability, and you can't get any more stable than Diane. Although, she often gets kinda--" He flapped his hands in a panicky manner.

The mention of Diane's name dispelled any doubts Jake might have had. "You want to use her as a source for money?" he demanded, muscles tensing.

"What?! No!" Brad said, insulted. "I'm not saying that money wouldn't hurt, but no, I came here because I missed her and I wanted to see how she's doing. Maybe pick up where things left off... have a little fun."

"_Fun,_" Jake repeated with a dangerous edge. "How so?"

Brad chuckled slyly, elbowing Jake. "I wouldn't be a gentleman if I said how, but you remember me saying that 'once you got her out of her shell...?' Well, believe me, once you do... Damn, that girl knows how to have _fun_, if you know what I mean."

Be it out of shock at Brad's audacity or just pure jealousy, Jake's nanites automatically charged every muscle and sensory nerve into overdrive. The pulsating throb of blood gushing from his chest outwards to his arms and head severely raised his temperature, echoing the growing power of adrenalin raging in his veins. "Yeah," Jake gritted.

Unaware of the thin line he was treading, Brad presented a toothy smile to his new friend and extended a hand. "I didn't catch your name. Brad Deveraux," he introduced.

Jake clasped his hand in his, squeezing enthusiastically. "Lucky Bastard."

Brad laughed and then grimaced, his smirk wiped away with the bone-crunching pressure being applied to his grip. "What the-- You almost broke my hand!" he charged, ripping from Jake's handshake. Brad wiggled his fingers, testing to see if they were still in working order. "Hmm, so _you're _the 'someone.' It's nice to know Diane hasn't changed; still goes for skinny guys, I see."

Jake balled up his fists at being labeled 'skinny.' He was getting really sick of all the physical stature wisecracks he'd gotten since becoming an agent and this was the last straw. "You're a lousy drunk," he said, deciding to choose the high road and walk away from the situation.

"Hey, you're probably just a friend, right? Tell me, how many guys did she ask to come with her before she finally got to you?" Brad sneered in delight when Jake discontinued his retreat to the door. "Or did it happen some other way...? I really didn't have to explain the 'fun' thing after all, did I?"

It was only after a sharp pain shooting up his arm and Brad's body slumping to the ground, did Jake register that his fist had cut through the air, striking Brad square in the jaw. With a regretful sigh -- well, not _that_ regretful -- he knelt to make sure the unconscious Brad wasn't hurt too badly. Jake concluded that the large purple bruise and cut lip didn't deserve medical attention, considering Brad's jaw alone almost shattered a few of Jake's bones.

Cursing why every person he's hit so far had to have thick skulls, Jake reached for the extra roll of paper towels on the counter and was about to leave when he suddenly bumped into another man. The stranger slowly took in the whole scene before looking at Jake quizzically.

"Knocked himself out on one too many microbrews," he explained before swinging out the door.

* * *

Jake went back into the gym where the temperature had dropped to normal and the party was still upbeat. Debating on whether to speak up about his encounter or not, he returned to the table, gently touching Diane on the shoulder. "Hey, I--"

"Are you okay?" Diane asked, slipping worried glances between him and the JMD she hid in her purse. "I didn't notice you had left. I was just about to go searching for you because your adrenalin a-and blood pressure levels-- Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Really." Jake sat down, allowing her to take a hold of his wrist. Satisfied with the rate of his pulse, she released her grasp, accidentally bumping his knuckles down on the table. Jake whimpered, inhaling a loud hiss of air at the moment of impact.

Diane retook possession of his hand and held it close to her face, straining under the dim lighting to uncover any injury. "What happened to your hand?" she asked, her breath tickling the small hairs below his knuckles.

Jake's fingers curled in the cradle of her palms as she lightly grazed the spot where his fist and Brad's jaw had made contact. He wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of having Diane mad at him again. "Uh... nothing. Banged it on a trashcan. It'll be fine in a few minutes." Changing the subject, Jake set the roll of paper towels in front of her. "I, um, got you this since I figured your pile of writing surfaces were probably dwindling."

She smiled guiltily, accepting the gift. "Thanks."

Jake shook his head. "I'm sorry I acted like an idiot. It's my fault. I shouldn't have--"

"No, it's not all your fault," she dismissed, tapping his hand. Jake winced which caused her to flinch in response. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

Diane heaved a heavy sigh and shut her eyes. "Jake, it wasn't you overhearing that I was really mad at. It was me. I did a couple stupid and naive things when I was younger, Brad being one of them. I guess I..." She let go of his hand and shrank into herself, feeling foolish. "I guess during this whole weekend I got caught up in trying to prove something to the past. I don't know what exactly. Maybe that I'm better than I was back then, or that I'm not naive anymore to believe in 'marrying your high school sweetheart' or romantic stuff like that... I dunno. I don't know how to explain it."

"You don't have to explain," he assured, "and I don't think you need to prove anything to anyone, Diane."

"I know, but... It's just that it still kinda hurts when I think about Brad and..." She drifted away for a few seconds before pulling up her shoulders. "Anyways, that was a long time ago, right? I should just get over it and move on."

He frowned at her unconvincing attempt to rationalize things. Jake actually considered for a moment on whether he should excuse himself and go give Brad a second, delicious taste of The Joy of Pummeling, but ultimately concluded that coming back to the table with two sore fists might make Diane suspicious. "So how's the speech coming?" he prodded, steering her towards a less emotionally painful topic.

Her lips tightened wryly as she motioned to the small, formidable Napkin Ball Mountain. "Yeah, I think those paper towels will come in handy. It'll be a nice variation in texture."

Jake's eyebrows scrunched together, _so much for steering towards a less emotionally painful topic_, he thought. "When do you go up?"

"Oh--" She stole a glance at his watch. "In about an hour and a half, like at the very end. I suppose I should be thankful; by then everybody will either have already left or are so wasted that they'd give me a five minute standing ovation if I just stood up there and whistled the beginning of the 'William Tell Overture.'"

"You know, I'd probably give you a standing ovation, too. There're some really fast and tricky parts in there."

Diane rolled her eyes with a smirk. "You know what I mean." After witnessing him return her smile, she suggested, "I can drop you off at the house, if you want. There's really not much to do here and with our flight tomorrow... I don't want you to have to sit for another hour watching me write-- Well, write and then mutter obscene words as I crumple them up and add it to my modern art sculpture over there."

Jake chuckled and then tapped the tabletop. "No, I'm staying right here. I came to support you and that's what I'm going to do."

She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment. "Thanks, Jake. And... you already have. Supported me, I mean. More than I could've asked for."

He swallowed the strange lump that had formed in his throat. "Just trying to do what you've always done for me," Jake said simply.

Diane shrugged, shyly averting her eyes from his. Clearing her throat, she glanced towards the crowd that was loitering at the center of the gym, waiting for the DJ to queue up the next song. "You know what? Screw this."

"What?"

"This," she said, fluttering a hand at the pen and napkins in front of her. "I've been driving myself insane with this speech for no reason. Nobody here, especially me, is actually excited about hearing me speak. And it's not like I have to prove anything to anyone, right?"

He smiled at her repetition of his words. "That's right."

"So, let's get out of here," she decided, getting up to discard the napkins a few at a time.

Jake stood from his seat, exchanging a rueful glance with Diane when the room began to reverberate with slow, heavy electric guitar riffs and Bryan Adam's voice in all its whining glory.

"Are you ready?" Diane questioned, gathering the last load bound for the recycling bin.

Jake mused over the couples that swayed on the dance floor. "You know, although the spiked punch you had promised was a letdown, we kind of nailed the moping at the table part. I figure since we're two out of three, would you like to...?"

She followed his pointed glance to the people slow dancing in the middle of the room and then flicked her gaze back to him. "No, not really," she bluntly said.

"Oh," he goggled, slightly disappointed. "Okay."

Diane swiped her purse off the table, the side of her mouth curling upwards. "I have something a little more fun in mind."

His voice went up an octave. "Fun?"

"Yeah, come on."

Jake choked when she roughly took his arm, nearly dragging him to the exit. "You didn't happen to have any of those beers while I was gone, did you?"

Somehow managing a giggle that was bashful yet mischievous at the same time, Diane declared, "No, Jake, I'm completely sober. Now let's go before I lose my nerve."

He began to wonder what in the world she was suggesting they do, but ceased thinking about it before it made him too-- 'excited' was, unfortunately, the first word that popped into his mind. While Jake berated himself to get a grip, Diane led them out the double doors, the drifts of early 90s music and old memories fleeting away with each step they took.

* * *

The open air had sent goose bumps rising to the surface of his bare arms for the last hour. Almost in a begging tone, Jake sighed, "Aw, c'mon Diane, stop fooling around."

"I'm not the one who's fooling around."

"Just let me try again. I know I can do better this time. It takes me a while to get warmed up, but I think I've got it under control now."

"You call _that _control? I'm surprised you haven't hurt anybody with that thing yet."

"Pffth. It wasn't that bad..." Jake sputtered, brushing off her criticism. Seeing her expression turn skeptical, he started to panic. "Was it?"

"Mmm..." Diane hesitated, searching for the right words. "If you call taking ten minutes just to get it in as being 'bad,' then... I think maybe there might be more than just a little room for improvement... Like a lot of room."

Jake's shoulders slumped considerably. "Why are you looking at my balls?" he asked, perplexed.

"I'm just making sure that everything is okay with them, because in all seriousness, taking that much time is _not _normal."

Jake groaned at the emotional damage he was convinced she was doing to his ego. "So I take a little longer than other people, can you blame me? I mean, I feel like I'm under pressure to perform well. Pressure mostly put on by _you_."

"Me?!" Diane laughed. "Don't pin this on me. I didn't do anything but say encouraging things to you the whole time."

"Well, then maybe it's the friction between--"

"I'm an expert, Jake," she said, interrupting him. "I've been dealing with this stuff for years. It's _not _the friction."

He threw his hands up in a huff. "Okay, fine! I admit I need a lot of work on my technique. Now will you please stop examining those so I can try again?"

Diane innocently handed him the wire basket of white golf balls, struggling to keep from saying another teasing retort. He scowled at her as he set it on the ground next to him. Grumbling under his breath, Jake reached into the basket and placed one of the balls on the tee of the eleventh hole. He then stood, surveying the square block obstacles and rotating windmill that were positioned a few feet away. Under the stress of Diane's gaze and the shining, stadium lights of Lucky Pete's Putt Putt Park, he repeatedly adjusted his golfing stance.

"Don't you think you should hit that ball pretty soon?" Diane chided.

Jake straightened and stuck his golf club under his arm. "_Yes_, I will. I just have to get into the right mind set before I can make the perfect shot."

She folded her arms, amused, as he did a few exaggerated breathing exercises and pseudo Tai Chi moves with his hands. Making sure his shirtsleeves were securely rolled up, he retook his golfing stance, focused on the ball, and took a swing.

The successful, dull thwack of metal striking hard plastic made Jake smirk to himself, convinced that he'd finally gotten the hang of this golf thing. His moment of victory, however, was cut short when out of his peripheral vision, he saw a white blur cut through the air and ricochet off the rotating windmill.

"Whoa!" Diane yelped, stepping back just in time for the golf ball to speed past her face. Both she and Jake whipped their heads around to see the small sphere continue its flight until, at last, slamming itself into a cardboard cutout of Lucky Pete the Leprechaun.

Jake let out a weak chuckle. "Um, guess I might've put too much Tai in that Chi."

"Yeah..." she trailed off, gulping at the golf ball that was now embedded in the smiling leprechaun's eye. Diane turned to Jake, appalled. "'Control,' huh?"

Extremely thankful that they were the only people in the entire mini golf park, he self-consciously poked the green Astro-Turf with his club a couple of times. "This is your idea of 'fun'? Couldn't we have done something that I'm good at, like basketball?" He heard Diane start to snigger. "Hey, so I wasn't that great playing against Steve at the carnival, but if you had seen me with Malik... I'm telling you, I kicked _ass _against those college brats."

"Mm-hmm. Sure."

He rolled his eyes. "It's _mini golf_ for godsakes. I wouldn't have even pictured you as a golf person."

"Believe me, I'm not," she said, shooing him from the tee area. "But when you're from Bar Harbor and the majority of the population is over forty with most of them being golf enthusiasts, you can't help but pick up a little bit of the sport. It's like a guilty pleasure... or, at least, some viral infection that you can't runaway from."

Jake observed Diane as she slipped off her high heels and positioned herself next to the ball. Scanning the obstacles, she relaxed her grip and softly swung the club. The small sphere rolled down the green, bouncing in angles he hadn't thought of using, and going successfully into the windmill. Coming out the other side, Jake glowered as the ball continued its bounding course, sailing into the hole without any trouble. Diane lifted an eyebrow at him expectantly.

"Lucky shot," he conceded, pretending to be unimpressed. "So I'm guessing you have mini golf down to an art-- or science, in your case."

"Mmm, actually, it's geometry."

"Yeah, yeah," he drawled at her smart-aleck response. Trudging away to retrieve the balls, Jake returned and tossed them in the basket. "I still think that shot was a fluke."

"Trust me, Jake. That shot had nothing to do with chance." Diane pursed her lips as she dropped the golf club next to her shoes. "My personal relationships, however... Now that's something that could use a little luck. Like big tanker trucks full of it."

"Your personal relationships aren't that bad."

"No, they _are. _I mean, just in one year; first there was Steve, and now Brad is a confirmed loser... I'm really starting to think that every guy I get involved with is from Jerks 'R Us." Jake chuckled while a sad smile crossed her face. "My taste in men pretty much blows, doesn't it?"

He pondered that question for a moment. "Well, I don't think it's your taste that blows, but rather the particular guys you've tasted." Jake reassessed his answer, asking slowly, "That didn't sound right, did it?"

Diane flushed. "I think I get the main idea of what you're trying to say."

Jake beamed a grateful smile and started fidgeting with the handle of his golf club. Standing in front of each other, the conversation died on that note with neither of them having the faintest idea on how to revive it. Diane crossed her arms, drawing Jake's attention to the fact that she was shivering. "You're cold," he noted, bending to set down his club and pick up the jacket he had shed earlier.

"Cold? Oh, no, I'm-- Well, actually yeah, kinda. Sort of."

They both grinned at her indecisiveness as he slipped his suit jacket around her shoulders. Tugging at the lapels to make sure the garment covered as much of her exposed skin, Jake paused when he caught her biting her lip. "What's wrong?"

Diane took a deep breath, her line of sight darting back and forth from his face to an imaginary spot on his disheveled tie. "Jake, I... I just want you to know that everything we did this weekend... I don't want you to think that I took you to any of those places because 'Brad and I went there' or something; we never did, by the way. All those spots mean a lot to me. They're _special _to me just like how you're--" She broke off and pulled the jacket more securely around her. "I-I thought that maybe you might like them just as much as I do, that's all."

Jake jammed his hands into his pockets. "I'm sorry I said those things to you," he apologized, ashamed for making those accusations towards her. But even with all the remorse, Jake sensed a heavy weight had been taken off his chest. It never occurred to him how much he was hurt by the idea that she might have unconsciously been using him as a substitute for... Shaking his head, he quit any further analysis of the concept, satisfied with knowing that it didn't hold true anyways. "Diane, I do like those places. I like them a lot; they're amazing. I..." He sighed at his inability to describe what he wanted to say. "I'm just really glad you let me tag along with you this weekend."

"I'm glad you came with me, too," she said, her voice hushed.

The leaves of the birches ringing the golf course began rustling in the light breeze, competing with the ticking spurts of water sprinklers in the nearby driving range and the accelerated drumming that Jake recognized to be Diane's pulse. Centralizing on the latter of the three, Jake plucked away a piece of lint from the jacket she wore before returning his hand into his pocket.

"Diane?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't think you're ordinary."

"Huh?"

Jake watched her, unblinkingly. "On the plane, you said that you were 'just ordinary' in high school. But from what I've seen and heard of you when you were younger, I don't think that's true... I don't think you were 'just ordinary' back then or right now, Diane..." A deep frown creased his features. "That sounded stupid, didn't--"

The sudden sensation of her lips touching the back of his cheek stole away his ability to utter the last word. He blinked rapidly, attempting to process what was happening. Her breath fanning the area just below his earlobe was so pleasant and comfortable, but just as quickly as that warmth had appeared, it dissipated into cold air when Diane pulled back.

He gazed down at her as she smiled at him affectionately and stooped to gather up her shoes. Her being that close for a moment had felt nice, _very _nice, but to him it hadn't been long enough. Not by a long shot.

Blushing, Diane straightened and was about to turn away. "Um, we still have a few more holes to go so--"

Jake stopped her in mid-sentence using the same tactic she had, but this time, going straight to the source. He moved his lips tentatively against hers, immediately becoming afraid that his instincts had led him astray when she didn't respond. Jake's insecurities were put to rest, though, with the muffled clatter of high heels falling onto Astro-Turf and Diane's hands flattening against his chest.

She timidly kissed him back, a startling contrast to the fistfuls of shirt she clawed at, yanking him closer. The intense mixture of gentleness and ferocity threw Jake off-guard, almost causing him to topple forward, taking her with him. He regained his balance, however, by planting his feet and wrapping his arms around her waist. The dark blue jacket around her shoulders tumbled to a forgotten heap on the ground, its role as protection from the evening chill replaced by Jake's own body heat.

The full contact of their bodies pressed against each other with only a few layers of clothes between them sent Jake's senses reeling. He deepened the kiss, matching her fierceness with his own. Desire welled up inside, almost casting him off the edge, but the constant, nagging notion in the back of his mind was strong enough to give him the restraint he needed.

This wasn't real. Well, it was "real" in the sense that they were standing on an empty golf course making out. "Real" in that the slippery material of her dress was sweeping against his bare forearms as she lightly raked her fingernails up and down the thin fabric of his shirt; yeah, all that was _definitely _happening.

What wasn't real was the belief that he and Diane could afford to act on what they really wanted to do right now without later on feeling cheated out of a future they could never have. The smooth metal of her rings on his skin when she caressed his cheek -- the same smooth metal he felt when she examined him back in the lab... _back _in the NSA -- reminded him of that fact.

Jake reluctantly released his mouth from hers, doing his best to ignore the low moan of protest that emanated from her parted lips. Resting his chin on top of her head, he buried his face in the swirling mass of brown curls, inhaling the familiar scent he hadn't known he had committed to memory until now.

It was true that he was aware he ought to stop this, but just a few more moments of deliciously torturous contact wouldn't hurt, right? Not really caring if that was right or not, his hands crawled upwards to the small of Diane's back, propelling her frame even more towards his, making sure no excusable inch of space was between them. His breath came out in rasps, agitating the short wisps of hair that feathered against the side of her forehead. Forcing himself to be content with just hugging her, Jake reveled in the sensations that were all occurring at once; the way the muscles in her back yielded slightly to his touch, the trace of perfume that wafted from a spot just below her ear, the tiny kisses she dabbed on his skin as she found the open gap of his shirt collar and nuzzled against the base of his neck. He tasted the lingering hint of peppermint when Diane raised her head and recaptured his mouth, using her tongue to enhance the pleasurable flavor. Jake's eyelids snapped shut, giving over to the graphic scenarios that had been harboring in the deep recesses of his imagination and were now all too insistent on finally surpassing the barrier to his consciousness.

Lost among the explicit images flooding his mind, seconds passed -- perhaps even minutes, Jake wasn't quite sure -- before Diane sighed, gently pushing herself away from his hold. Slipping on her high heels, she gazed up at him with an expression that Jake found hard to categorize.

"It was a nice fantasy while it lasted, wasn't it?" Diane inquired softly.

He took in the range of emotions she projected from that simple sentence; the melding of disbelief, happiness, desire, and longing that permeated from the low tone she had used to murmur each syllable. Understanding the meaning behind her words, he found it bittersweet to know that he hadn't been the only one using this weekend to escape reality. "Yeah. It was nice," Jake breathed. Mindful of the few hours they had left, he attempted to make light of the situation by flashing a grin and asking, "So... what was that kiss for?"

Diane looked at him coyly and threw a sideward glance at the ground, joking, "Your balls said I should."

Jake's mouth fell agape at her answer while she started to walk away to the next hole. Confused, he picked up his coat and club off the ground and was reaching for the basket of golf balls when he started to chuckle. Printed on each of the Lucky Pete's golf balls was a clover and the small inscription of "Kiss me, I'm Irish."

He regarded the small spheres thoughtfully, a faint smirk curling the edge of his mouth. With the breeze beginning to spread the smell of salty sea air through the park, Jake covertly pocketed one of the golf balls and sauntered after Diane, convinced that both his and Diane's luck seemed to be turning up already.

* * *

**  
Author's Note:** All locations mentioned in this story are real and were described to the best of my researching ability using Google... Except, of course, for Lucky Pete's Putt Putt Park, that's just my cheesy invention.


End file.
